Blue Eyes
by WinterViolets
Summary: This is just some Destiel that I felt like writing. No smut...but quite a lot of cuteness will hopefully be in later chapters...just angst for now sorry. This might be a one shot though, I haven't decided yet. Enjoy (if you want) :)
1. Chapter 1

**Hi! So this is pretty short, but the next chapter will be much longer, don't worry :) I've never written any Destiel before, so this is pretty fun **

**To be truthful, I have no idea how long this is going to be - it could be anything from 2 to 50 chapters xD**

**I hope you enjoy it :)**

Dean Winchester had never needed anyone. His eyes had gazed at the stars a thousand times in a desolate field, sharing the land with no one but his car. His voice had screamed at the gods for justice in rooms filled with nothing but broken memories and old photographs. He'd downed more than his fair share of whiskey whilst sat alone in stagnant motel rooms. Of course, he loved his brother. Sam Winchester had been the one that Dean held on for, fought for, died for. Yet, never once, did Dean truly need his brother.

So why, after only a few years, did Dean feel like he couldn't manage life without Castiel? How had the angel got hold of his heart in such a short time? It wasn't as if Dean was a trusting person – there were people he'd known all his life that he wouldn't dare trust with his life. He didn't exactly have a problem saying goodbye either. He'd waved away countless friends in his solitary life that it had practically become a reflex. But Castiel…Castiel was different.

Castiel was the blue eyes that lit the underside of Dean's eyelids. Castiel was the oceanic scent that Dean craved when he was lonely. Castiel was the unwavering soldier that supported Dean in his darkest hours. Castiel was the trench coat left on a chair that made any place feel like home. Castiel was the one constant foundation that Dean held onto.

That's why it hurt _so much_. Being alone. Surely, after all this time, it would be the one part of life that Dean was used to; but now everything had changed. Although Sam never ceased to be there for Dean, it wasn't the same as having Castiel. Cas was, despite his "people skills" being "rusty", never hard to talk to. He always listened, never judged. That was one of the many qualities Dean loved about his angel; he could talk to Cas about anything, for any amount of time, and the angel would listen as if he was memorizing every word. Not having him around was tearing Dean apart.

"Cas?" Dean murmured, stumbling through the doorway of his room. He could have sworn he heard the angel's voice. Maybe he was hallucinating – it wouldn't be the first time. The amount of times Dean had seen those blue eyes in the mirror or heard the soft wish of a trench coat round a corner was driving him insane. However, Dean was convinced that this was real. It just sounded so solid, like a block of concrete, constant through existence. Of course, that was exactly what a crazy person would think, and it was just as likely that Dean was falling into a bottomless pit of insanity that was destined to turn those blue eyes into a dreaded sight.

Abruptly dismissing the controversial thoughts, Dean dragged his feet through the hallways of the bunker, battling with his sleep debt to find Cas. Following the voice that had become a melody to his ears, Dean began to grow suspicious as he heard Sam's voice join Castiel's. Surely Sam would have woken Dean up before speaking to Cas? Dean couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right, yet he ignored it. He would rather have the few moments of ignorant bliss, of belief that everything could turn out right, than the pessimistic values that he practised so often.

It took Dean a profuse amount of willpower to calm the doubts that ate away at his insides as he rounded the corner of where the voices were coming from.

He should have stayed in bed.

He should have listened to his doubts.

He should have run away from what he saw.

He should have resisted the temptation to look down.

He should have run from those blue eyes – cold, motionless…lifeless.

But he didn't.

Dean Winchester stayed to stare at the two bodies lay dead on the floor.

Dean Winchester sunk to the ground, eyes open wide.

Dean Winchester ran a hand over his face.

Dean Winchester let out a tear.

Dean Winchester prayed.


	2. Chapter 2

**So hi...sorry I haven't updated in ages. I have no excuse to not write, sorry. The only reason I've written now is because I've needed something to help me cope with three of my favourite characters dying in the space of three days **

**I hope you enjoy this :)**

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It was the third time in a week that Dean had been victim to that particular nightmare. He couldn't help feeling that it was driving him insane – especially after he yelled for Cas. Dean had never yelled for anyone after a nightmare – not his father, not Sammy, not his mother. But this was different. After seeing them lifeless for three nights in a row, Dean needed to see those blue eyes full of life again. Amidst the desperate confusion of bolting upright, relaying the torturous scenes in his head, and frantically reaching for his knife, the angel's name had slipped through Dean's lips like a waterfall of silk, almost effortlessly.

As Castiel entered the room at a sprint, he was shocked at the pure terror harboured in Dean's eyes. For a while now, Castiel had sensed Dean's fear and confusion, yet he had put it down to The Mark, figuring that it must give out a negative kind of aura. However, upon viewing the petrified look in Dean's eyes, those beautiful eyes that resembled apples dipped in warm whiskey, Castiel knew there was something else.

"Cas?" Dean stuttered, running a shaking hand through his sweat-ridden hair.

His inquiry was met only with a confused look from Castiel, as if he wasn't lay dead on the floor thirty seconds ago.

"Cas what's going on?" Dean questioned frantically, his mind still clouded from panic.

"Dean, are you okay?" Cas asked softly, placing a calm hand over Dean's. Under his fingertips, Cas could feel Dean almost trembling.

"You…you were dead, Cas." Dean uttered, his wide eyes staring at the ground in a vacant, delirious expression.

"Dean, I'm fine, it was just a nightmare." Cas assured him. The nightmares had become a concern now – almost every night Cas would find Dean tangled in the sheets, with a petrified expression plastered on his sleeping face.

Dean nodded uncertainly, before glancing at the clock beside the bed. 3:30am. He had only been asleep for one hour – that was a new record. Deciding that he should try to get some sleep, Dean lay back down on the bed, closing his aching eyes.

"Dean, stop." Cas interjecting, laying a hand on Dean's shoulder.

"Cas?" Dean mumbled, already succumbing to the clutches of slumber.

"Dean – we need to talk." The angel told him, his blue eyes locking with Dean's. Dean sat up at the serious, almost anxious look in Cas's eyes.

"Talking isn't going to help, Cas" Dean replied with determination. He could already tell that this would end in either an argument or turn into a chick flick. Honestly, he'd prefer the argument.

"You can't go on like this Dean, you're going to end up ill!" Cas yelled desperately, his eyes pleading with Dean's.

"Dammit Cas, I've done this all my life! I'm already ill!" Dean retorted sharply, swatting away the hand that Cas had reached out.

"Dean don't say that." Cas murmured, shaking his head. How had he let Dean hate himself so much?

"I'll say whatever the hell I want – if you don't like it then you can leave." Dean replied with an eerily calm tone, as if he had become void of emotion.

"I'm not leaving, Dean. Please, you need to do something about this – you can't live like this!" Cas pleaded, his voice weighted by desperation.

"You think you know me so damn well, don't you? You're just god's pretentious little brat – you know nothing!" Dean spat back, jumping out of bed to face the angel.

"Dean, please just let me help-"

"I don't need your help! Hell, I don't even need you! You're even more pathetic than most of the humans on this goddamn planet!" Dean yelled.

Cas felt every word with a stab to his heart. He'd always tried his best to be there for Dean – to care for him. But Dean was right – he was pathetic. A pathetic excuse for an angel, or even a human.

"I'm sorry Dean." Cas replied softly, his eyes on the ground to hide the tears that were threatening to fall.

"I don't want your damn apology, Cas!" Dean said, his voice softening slightly.

"I know, Dean." Cas answered, his head down as he walked around Dean, going out the door and shutting it behind him.

Dean ran a hand though his hair, on the verge of tears as he sunk into the carpet of the lonely room. He smashed his hand against the dresser beside the bed, pounding it repeatedly with his fist as anger boiled inside of him.

What was he supposed to have done? He couldn't exactly have said "oh yes please, Cas – send me to therapy!". Yet, why was did that mean that he had to be insulting? The instant that the words left his mouth, Dean regretted every single one. He never meant to hurt Castiel – if anything he wanted the angel to stay. But no – he'd fucked that up too.

Everything had been going wrong lately – this was just the cherry on the broken cake.

All Dean had wanted was for the angel to be there, and he'd screwed up. Dean's heart sank when Castiel's disappointed face flashed up behind his eyes.

All Cas had done was be there for Dean, and he screwed it up. He hurt the one person that he could rely on. Again.

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**Thank you aso much for reading! It really means a lot to me :')**


	3. Chapter 3

**Bonjour! Wow, two updates in less than a week, it's almost as if I'm trying to find excuses not to revise.**

**I wrote this chapter on three separate occasions, so it probably doesn't flow too well, sorry.**

**But anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter :)**

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Sam woke to the muffled sound of yelling. It was no surprise to him that, after flinging himself out of his room, he collided with Cas. Sam could have sworn that the angel was crying, but that couldn't be right – Cas was a soldier of God, not an emotion plagued human. He was just about to query Cas as to why he was pacing around the bunker at almost 4am, yet the angel sprinted off without even acknowledging Sam. Despite the unruly hour at which he had been woken, Sam's curiosity levels were off the scale. He wasn't exactly worried about a threat in the bunker – Cas would have told him about it. It had to be something else. The only other person in the bunker was…Dean. Of course it was Dean.

Sam couldn't help but notice the looks Cas and Dean had been giving each other over the past few weeks. Each time Dean looked away, Cas would look at him in a concerned, disappointed way, as if Dean was destroying himself. Sam knew that this wasn't an impossibility. However, Dean's eyes stared at Cas in a longing way, as if the angel was the only thing he needed in life. Sam didn't really understand their relationship, and he didn't believe that they did either.

Making his way to Dean's room, Sam struggled to imagine a scenario in which Dean would apparently make Cas cry. He knew that Dean's words were sometimes harsh, but he would never say something to purposefully make the angel cry. However, Cas wouldn't cry over nothing. Maybe it was something else. Maybe it was a total coincidence that Cas was heading away from Dean's room. Maybe Sam would reach his brother's room to find him fast asleep, with no idea of what was happening in the land of the living. Sam wouldn't put it past Cas to yell at himself.

However, as Sam approached Dean's door, all thoughts of optimism were diminished with the smash of what sounded like a lamp hitting the wall. Sam wasn't entirely sure that it was safe for him to enter the room whilst Dean was hulked out, but he decided to ignore these insecurities.

Knocking softly on the door, Sam pictured the state that he expected to find Dean in – blinded by rage, hating himself and…afraid. Not many people were able to see past the endless maze of walls that Dean put up around himself. In fact, Sam himself sometimes struggled. However, he did know the tell-tale signs of Dean's fear – the twitching of his left leg, the way his thumb jittered as if powered by static, and, most importantly, the deepness of his eyes. The way that his brother's eyes morphed into dark pools, flecked with despair and dread -that was what truly terrified Sam.

Ignoring the muffled cry of something along the lines of "Piss Off!", Sam pushed the door open, albeit tentatively, revealing his brother pounding the walls with a battered fist. The usual feeling of dismay didn't even begin to hit Sam – the tears streaming like bullets down his brother's face shot through the walls. Whatever had happened between the two had taken its toll on Dean.

"Dean, stop." Sam demanded softly, walking up to Dean. Getting closer, Sam could see Dean trembling from the conflicted emotions radiating from him. This wasn't the Dean Winchester that stood steady as unearthly monsters threatened to tear him apart. This wasn't the Dean Winchester that cared only for his car and a bottle of whiskey. This was the Dean Winchester that wasn't defended, that wasn't guarded. This was the broken man that lay beyond the front lines.

Dean didn't seem to hear as Sam began to shout – he carried on striking the wall, oblivious to the world around his as he dug deeper into his violent euphoria. Sam's heart dropped as he realized the desperate state that his brother was in. If he didn't step in, Dean would carry on. In fact, Dean probably wouldn't stop until he destroyed himself.

"Dean!" Sam yelled, grabbing Dean's wrist in mid-punch. The look on Dean's face in that exact moment was forever burned into Sam's mind. The way Dean's eyes looked as if they were stuck back in hell, the tears that formed patterns on his sunken face, the desperate expression plastered on his features. Looking down on his brother in that way, Sam was reminded of the four year old boy that had so much hope for his future. The Dean Winchester of another life that had a job, had a family, and, most importantly, was content with his life.

"Sammy?" Dean questioned, his voice laboured with shock and uncertainty, as if he had just awoken from a trance.

"Dean, what happened?" Sam asked, his eyes searching Dean's for an answer. At this point, Dean seemed to notice the blood dripping from his beaten hands for the first time. His eyes widened as he realized that he had done this to himself.

"I don't Sammy…I think…Cas? Oh shit, Cas-" Dean muttered, panic punctuating each word.

"Dean, calm down!" Sam yelled, gripping Dean's shoulders in an attempt to free him from the panic flooding his system.

"No, Sam, you don't understand! I – I told him, oh shit, Sam, I told him he was pathetic…I – I told him I didn't need him!" Dean choked out, guilt taking control of his body.

As Dean made his way to the door, Sam held out a hand to stop him.

"Dean – stop. We can fix this, but you're not gonna do any good in this state. Please, just wait until morning." Sam pleaded, desperately trying to resist against his older brother. However, Dean dismissed this without hesitation.

"I gotta find him, Sam!" Dean yelled, bursting out of the door and sprinting down the corridor, Sam following close behind.

After an three hours of frantic searching around the bunker, the Winchesters came to the conclusion that Cas had left. The worst part was the lack of explanation. There was no note to say where he'd gone, or how long he'd be. That was what worried Dean the most – the fact that he might never see his angel again. The terror building up in inside him threatened to kill him with torturous thoughts of Cas lay dead in a street, having never known how truly sorry Dean was.

So, feeling empty and lost, Dean resigned himself to a chair by the table, simply staring at the phone, waiting.

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**Thank you so much for reading! Have a lovely week/month/day/year**


	4. Chapter 45

**So hey**

**I haven't uploaded in ages (even though I've had this written for about a month)**

**But this is the last chapter**

**I hope you enjoy it :)**

**! okay I've just realized that I lost chapter 4 (this was supposed to be 5) when I switched laptops, and my old laptop has been completely wiped so there's no recovering that :/ but basically Cas call, says some sad/angry things, and Sam traces the call, so Sam and Dean set off to find him. Sorry, you're gonna have to use you're imagination to fill in the gaps because I'm a shitty writer and I don't want to re write 4 after I've written 5 because I will get very confused**

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Dean had no words to say to Cas. Of course, his mind was racing with apologies, compromises, and other chick-flick speeches that would probably make him vomit under different circumstances, yet Dean couldn't bring himself to relay the messages to his…friend? He had no idea what the angel was to him anymore. His heart told him that there was more than friendship between the two of them; it made him believe there was something more to the 'profound bond' crap that Cas was so insistent about. However, Dean's mind told a different story.

Dean could never call himself logical. His brain certainly wasn't thinking along the lines of 'the relationship should be strictly professional'. In fact, Dean wasn't entirely sure what his brain was telling him. It obviously contradicted the optimistic values of his heart, yet mixed messages were relayed. First of all, there was a wave of 'he's not even human' and 'that's not his body', and this was followed by thoughts such as 'you know it will never work' and 'everybody you love ends up dead'. Anyway, it was safe to say that Dean wasn't exactly favouring his mind. For just once in his pessimistic life, Dean wanted to see the beauty in life, and that beauty just happened to be Castiel.

Watching the infinite row of highway lights pass by from the passenger window, Dean reflected on a different aspect of the current events – his brother. Not once in the past three days had Sam told him to just 'let it go' or 'give up'. Sam hadn't questioned the decision to drop everything to find Cas – he'd followed Dean straight of the door, taking the wheel of the Impala. Dean had neither the patience nor sanity to concentrate on following Sam's directions in his current state, so he figured it would be easier to just let his brother drive this time.

Of course, the one problem of letting Sam drive was that Dean had no clue where he was going, or when he'd be there. Every time he tried to speak, his words were choked into tears. It was a sensation that Dean had never experienced before – he was used to bottling up his emotions until they exploded from him in a drunken outburst; this time he had too many emotions to keep track of. First of all, he was afraid. He was afraid that he'd lost whatever relationship he had with Castiel. He was afraid that Cas was hurt, both physically and mentally. Secondly, Dean was, obviously, upset. He thought that Castiel would want to fix the damage that had been done, yet his sudden desertion contradicted this. Deep down, Dean was angry. Angry at Cas for leaving without any indication as to where he was going, yet also angry at himself for throwing away the trust that Castiel had placed in him.

Dean always managed to be angry at himself. No matter what situation he was in, there was always a way to blame himself for anything that went wrong. Especially when it came to the people he cared about. As a result of his childhood raising Sam, Dean always assumed the role of a protector to the people he loved, therefore he considered himself a failure when he failed to protect someone.

"We're almost there," Sam said softly, his voice breaking the heavy silence that had hung in the car for god knows how many hours. Dean hardly flinched, his eyes staring at the road as if he was transfixed by it. He looked almost dead.

"He'll be fine, Dean." Sam tried to assure him, but the younger brother hardly believed it himself. They both knew something was wrong; they both dreaded the moment they saw the angel, because they knew they wouldn't like what they'd find.

Again, Dean didn't even bother to respond to his brother – he hardly had the energy left in him to speak. The raw emotions pumping through his veins had drained all life from his body, leaving him an empty wreck, half-slumped over the dashboard.

As the car slowed down, Dean braced himself for the impending horror that he was sure awaited him. The looming silence had left Dean to run away with his thoughts – twisting him into believing the worst.

The faint creaking of the Impala's brakes accompanied the stopping of the car in a desolate car park, towered over by apartment buildings on two sides, the other leading to an eerie looking field. Both brothers opened their doors without speaking, stepping out under the orange glow of the streetlights. The raindrops that decorated the ground and car reflected the lights, creating a soft, warm pattern in the freezing night. Stars were dotted around the sky like tiny white ink blots, creating drawings against the infinite black of space.

Despite the beautiful, serene atmosphere of the night, Dean had no aspect of tranquillity about him; he held no respect for the splendour of the sky.

"Cas?" He called out, ashamed of the desperation that was obvious in his voice. All feelings of anger had been abandoned, replaced by anxiety and trepidation. Dean knew the dangers of the nocturnal hours – he had used the blanket of darkness to conceal his own crimes more times than he'd like to admit.

Following his instincts and the possible delusion of the sound of Cas's coat in the wind, Dean took off towards the field, Sam following behind. By the time they had reached the field, dean was half jogging, desperate to find Cas, but not wanting to draw attention to himself in the night. As the brothers climbed swiftly over the fence, it became apparent that the sound Dean heard wasn't just in his head. Castiel was stood there – in the middle of the field. Expressionless.

Apologies raced on the edge of Dean's tongue, struggling past the words of anger and worry. However, Dean couldn't bring himself to speak; he'd choke on his words if he did. From one look at the angel's eyes, he knew it was over. Whatever bond they'd had between them, whatever good had come of their friendship – it had all been lost, along with the light in Castiel's eyes. Dean could hardly bring himself to face Cas, fighting against his urge to stare at the ground.

"I'm leaving, Dean." Cas said in a dead, flat voice, somehow more emotionless than it usually was.

"Cas…please, you know I didn't mean anything, I- "

"It's okay, Dean. I would've had to leave at some point anyway."

Both men were talking with heavy hearts, neither wanting let the other go, yet knowing it was for the best.

"Where will you go?" Dean asked with a sigh, the lack of sleep blurring away his usual instinct to argue.

"I don't know…somewhere far away." Cas replied, stopping himself from saying 'somewhere away from you'. He was mad at Dean, but not that mad.

"Well, good luck, I suppose." Dean knew he'd live to regret that statement, yet he also knew that nothing he could say would make Cas stay. They might as well part with mutual politeness, rather than the pure rage that had the potential to burst from Dean's systems.

"Thank you, Dean. Until we meet again." And with that, the angel took off into the stars.

The blue eyes that left Dean didn't remind him of the ocean. They didn't remind him of clear skies and beautiful days.

They reminded him of blue skin after coldness and suffocation.

They reminded him of the hint of blue left by bruises made weeks in the past.

They reminded him of a broken man.

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**Sorry about the abrupt ooc ending :/ **

**I wrote this in a mood that was in a mix of having no imagination and wanting to write emo poetry**

**But anyway, I hope you enjoyed it :)**


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